Chapter 3: What Claire Left Behind
I crossed the chapel floor in six steps.
Behind me I heard Rachel say my name, heard Claire's mother make a sound that wasn't quite a word.
I didn't stop.
I pushed the side door open.
The figure didn't run.
She was standing in the narrow corridor between the chapel and the vestry, still wearing the dark coat, her blonde hair loose around her shoulders.
Her hands were at her sides.
Her eyes were red.
It was Claire.
For a moment neither of us moved.
I could hear the murmur of two hundred confused guests on the other side of the wall.
"Mark," she said.
"Don't." My voice came out quieter than I intended.
"Don't say my name like that."
She looked past me toward the door.
"Is Lily all right?"
"Lily is fine.
Lily is the only person in this building who told me the truth today."
Claire flinched.
Her gaze dropped to the floor.
"How long have you been standing there?" I asked.
"Since before the ceremony started."
"You stood there and watched."
"I couldn't leave.
I tried to leave and I couldn't." Her voice broke on the last word.
"I needed to see if you were okay."
"I'm not okay, Claire."
She pressed her lips together.
A tear moved down her cheek and she didn't wipe it away.
"Why?" I said.
"Give me one reason that makes any sense."
She was quiet for a long moment.
In the chapel, I heard someone cough.
A child asked a question in a loud whisper and was quickly hushed.
"There's something wrong with me," she finally said.
"That is not an answer."
"I know." She looked up.
"I mean there is something medically wrong with me.
There has been for eight months."
The corridor felt smaller.
"What are you talking about?"
"I was diagnosed last October." She said the word then — the one that lands differently than any other word in the English language.
"I didn't want to tell you before the wedding.
I didn't want you to marry me out of obligation.
I didn't want Lily to—" She stopped.
"I didn't want Lily to watch me get sick."
I stood there with my back against the door.
"So your solution," I said slowly, "was to send your twin sister to marry me in your place."
"It wasn't supposed to go this far.
Rachel was only meant to—"
"To what?
Stand at my altar in your dress?
Exchange vows with me?
Wear your ring?"
"To explain.
She was going to explain at the last moment.
She was going to tell you I was sick and that I was letting you go."
"Letting me go." I repeated the words carefully, the way you repeat something when you're checking whether you heard it right.
"I love you enough to let you go." Her voice was steady now, which was somehow worse than the tears.
"That is the only thing I have done in the last eight months that I am certain was right."
"You didn't think I deserved to make that choice myself."
She didn't answer.
"You didn't think I could handle it."
"I thought you would stay out of loyalty.
I thought Lily would lose another person she loved.
I thought—"
"You thought wrong." The words came out harder than I meant them to.
"You thought wrong about all of it."
She looked at me for a long moment.
Then she reached into her coat pocket and placed something on the narrow windowsill beside her.
An envelope.
My name on the front in her handwriting.
"I wrote it in September," she said.
"When I first found out.
I've been carrying it ever since."
She buttoned her coat.
"I'm not asking you to forgive me today," she said.
"I'm not asking you for anything."
She walked to the end of the corridor and turned the corner.
I stood there looking at the envelope with my name on it.
Then Lily pushed the door open behind me and slipped her hand into mine.
"Is that Claire?" she asked.
"Yes."
"Is she sick?"
I looked down at her.
"How much did you hear?"
"Enough." She leaned against my arm.
"Daddy, are you going to read the letter?"
I picked it up.
The paper was soft at the edges, worn from months of being carried.
May you like
"Yes," I said.
"But not here."
